Train rides and Birthdays.
On way back from Baroda, I was given RAC tickets, which meant I had to share my berth with another passenger. Being a not-so-tall person, I never have much of a problem with this. I can sit cross-legged quite comfortably without encroaching the other person's territory. On the other hand, the man with whom I was sharing the seat was big - both vertically and horizontally - and he looked miserable the entire ten minutes we sat together. I smiled politely at him, but I had Gagan Singh (ahem...my I-Pod, for those in the dark..) as a shield against uninteresting strangers. Through the high-pitched, apocalyptic world of Ziggy Stardust, I discerned a few words he was trying to say to me. "Train." "Packed." "T.T." I smiled again, so as not to seem like a total bitch, but continued to pay more attention to Gagan.
In a few minutes, the T.T came around to check our tickets. He saw us - the man squashed in his half of the seat, while I sat cushily, blanket and all, on my side - and scanned the passenger list. He chewed on his pen for a few seconds, before sighing audibly. He mumbled a few words to the man beside me whose face immediately lit up with the prospect of a good night's sleep. He grabbed his bags, hopped around until he had both his shoes on, and galloped into the next compartment. I finally took off my headphones when the T.T told me he had given up his own seat for the man. I thanked him for his kindness.
"Nahi." he said, "Aap leydis lok akele hai na, tho RAC mein accha nahi lagta hai.."
[It's not nice for "ladies people" travelling alone to have RAC tickets."
I stretched out, and ignoring the melange of ammonia and beedi smells, allowed myself to give in to the soporific coos of the train. Who would've thought that patriarchal notions of honour and propriety would be of any use to me?
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For my beloved sister, Bo: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have an amazing year filled with music, painting, beaches and hot men. And remember, you're now 22, and I'm not. Muahaha. I miss you tons, and wish you were around to talk to and harass. Love you!
In a few minutes, the T.T came around to check our tickets. He saw us - the man squashed in his half of the seat, while I sat cushily, blanket and all, on my side - and scanned the passenger list. He chewed on his pen for a few seconds, before sighing audibly. He mumbled a few words to the man beside me whose face immediately lit up with the prospect of a good night's sleep. He grabbed his bags, hopped around until he had both his shoes on, and galloped into the next compartment. I finally took off my headphones when the T.T told me he had given up his own seat for the man. I thanked him for his kindness.
"Nahi." he said, "Aap leydis lok akele hai na, tho RAC mein accha nahi lagta hai.."
[It's not nice for "ladies people" travelling alone to have RAC tickets."
I stretched out, and ignoring the melange of ammonia and beedi smells, allowed myself to give in to the soporific coos of the train. Who would've thought that patriarchal notions of honour and propriety would be of any use to me?
---------------------------------------------------------
For my beloved sister, Bo: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have an amazing year filled with music, painting, beaches and hot men. And remember, you're now 22, and I'm not. Muahaha. I miss you tons, and wish you were around to talk to and harass. Love you!
posted by Auri @ 10:30 AM
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